


Hypothetically: Incubus

by JenNova



Series: Famous Last Words [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Appropriate Violence, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, incubus, made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/JenNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Incubuses! Incubi! They're only meant to be able to affect women!” Stiles is using way too many exclamation marks but he can't help it because <i>this shouldn't be possible</i>. “Hence <i>all the victims being women</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothetically: Incubus

**Author's Note:**

> Well these parts just get longer and longer don't they? Sigh. Enjoy!
> 
> As a slight preview: for this fic I googled 'how many times can a man orgasm'. Oh! what larks the fuck-or-die business is.
> 
> As always, see the end notes for Dub-Con description.

About a month after Stiles shouts down the feud between Derek and Morgan, with the promise of the occasional consultation, Derek makes his first appointment with the therapist. There's no one reason why he makes it – it just feels like time. Her name is Anya and she knows nothing about werewolves. That's okay because most of Derek's problems are with humans. She knows who he is before they begin, has been living in Beacon Hills all her life, but it doesn't change the way she deals with him.

Anya asks if he's ever sought help before and he admits that he hasn't. Laura had suggested it once, in the days where he could barely speak for the guilt clotting up his vocal chords, but he had refused. No-one could understand what had happened, no-one would understand why he needed to feel this pain. He almost finds it funny, then, that the first person he tells about Kate (Stiles had come to him one day, after the wolfsbane, and told him that he knew and that he didn't care – but Derek doesn't think it counts as telling someone if they figured it out for themselves) is a complete stranger. That makes it easier, though, and he's smart enough to know why.

He sees Anya every two weeks for three years – it takes a year to work through Kate alone, before they even go near the fire and Laura's death, Peter's “disappearance” and everything that's happened since he came back to Beacon Hills. She asks about Stiles _a lot_ which is how Derek finds out how much he talks about him. She asks how they became friends and Derek realises that he has no specific incident to point to – it's a lot of little things, him and Stiles, a gradually building avalanche of shared moments. It's still building. Into what, he's not quite sure, but he can feel a shape forming in his head that doesn't dare think about.

While he rebuilds himself the pack changes shape and grows. Danny returns from college and asks for the bite. Lydia goes onto doctorate studies at an English university, once again towing Jackson with her. Erica and Boyd beat Scott and Allison to engagement by two days – though neither couple intend to follow through to marriage straight away. Stiles moves into grad school, at a college much closer to home, and still remains undecided about what he actually intends to do with his life. Isaac falls in love at an average of once per month for a year before a travelling omega breaks his heart. Derek accepts a small beta family into the pack when they come seeking a safe place from hunters – the Argents may have hung up their guns but their name still keeps the majority of hunters out of Hale territory.

The house is full again and there's even children running around and laughing. Derek very nearly has a panic attack when he realises how happy everyone is and disappears into the Preserve for almost a week before the others send for Stiles. Stiles who hunts him down and doesn't call him an idiot but lets him lean against his side instead. Sometimes when Derek doesn't see Stiles for a while he forgets about Stiles' masks – the layers he uses to bury his true self; the one who understands Derek better than anyone, who knows what Derek's afraid of without ever having to ask, who has been just as afraid in his life.

Anya teaches him that his fear is okay, that he has a right to feel it given all that's happened to him, and gives him the tools to stop it from controlling his life. There's always going to be trouble, Beacon Hills is a magnet for it, but Derek and his pack are capable of dealing with anything – and have done over and over again.

Werecats come through again and Erica and Boyd shut them down without even calling for help. Danny deals with a wendigo after only being a werewolf for a year. Stiles' Bestiary becomes so well known that he jokes about charging consultant rates. The witches hold to their deal and even help evict group of trolls that take up residence under one of Beacon Hills' few bridges.

Derek is calm and the pack is powerful, sometimes it feels stronger than Derek's family had been – tied together by something more than blood, something made of shifting alliances and fights and arguments and Stiles _never_ doing what he's told and Derek at the centre of it, more respected than he'd ever hoped to be.

The summer between college and grad school Stiles comes home smelling of a werewolf Derek doesn't recognise. At first he thinks it must've been one of the Bay pack trying to seduce Stiles away, _again_ , but there's always a base note of the ocean in their scents. This is something woody and dark and something about it makes Derek's proverbial hackles rise.

“Took your advice,” Stiles admits when Derek can't stop himself from making a face at the smell. Stiles flushes and ducks his head and something squeezes in Derek's chest against his will.

“Dating a werewolf,” Derek says, remembering vaguely mentioning it once. Stiles nods. “Bay pack?”

“No,” _hah!_ “She's, um, from Chico. Coincidence, am I right?”

“Lucky,” Derek says, lifting a shoulder. Stiles is doing his Masters at Chico State. “And convenient.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “We thought maybe she could, uh, come up some time? Meet the pack?”

“Serious?” Derek asks. He knows he's being a dick by barely speaking but he's been surprised. He doesn't like being surprised.

“Kinda,” Stiles nods, ducking his head again. “I know I should've told you sooner, but I wasn't sure if it was just going to be a college fling or something -”

“Serious,” Derek repeats, nodding like he knows what Stiles means. “That's fine, Stiles. Thank you for asking.”

“Wouldn't want to get those Alpha hackles of yours up,” Stiles says, flashing a smile. Derek snorts and cuffs him on the shoulder.

Her name is Kerri 'with an i!' and she's not at all like anyone Stiles has dated before. Derek doesn't really know what to make of her – she's considerate of him, brings greetings from her pack (her father's the Alpha) and an invitation for Stiles to visit in return. She's bright and kind and Stiles lights up around her and Derek -

Derek hates her. Okay, maybe hate is a bit strong. She still sets his teeth on edge but Stiles' instincts have nothing to say about her and Derek? Always trusts Stiles' instincts. He can only conclude that it's his problem and Anya agrees with him. He knows she's pushing him towards understanding his feelings about Stiles but he isn't prepared to face them or what they might mean for the pack if Stiles doesn't return them.

Derek is as civil as he can be towards Kerri and he must pull it off because Stiles doesn't make too many faces at him for the time she's with them. After his return visit Stiles reports that the Stackhouse pack is a couple of really nice families and the territory is mostly quiet. He glows with happiness and Derek is just self-aware enough to stop himself from being an asshole about that. There's talk of an alliance when the Stackhouse Alpha contacts Derek to negotiate Stiles' stay in Chico. The word marriage is never said but _is_ implied.

Derek doesn't deal with Stiles' first year of grad school very well. The pack gets suspicious and Scott never stops worrying that the Stackhouses are going to steal Stiles away for good. Derek tries to tell him that Stiles will never leave them, that he promised that, but Scott can't hear it.

The faeries come back on Stiles' 23rd birthday. Or an envoy does. They still want Stiles, the Protector, and after Stiles and Derek have driven them off again they say they'll return every five years until the find a way to make Stiles an offer he'll take. Stiles makes a lot of Godfather jokes and Derek finds himself laughing.

He stops when Kerri, wide-eyed and shaking, pulls Stiles away from everybody and breaks up with him. The rest of the werewolves do their best not to hear the argument but it gets loud. Derek finds himself between Erica and Stiles' friend Sash. Eventually, when the argument doesn't show any signs of stopping, the three of them herd everyone back into the house to eat the pizza Boyd ordered in.

After almost an hour Kerri comes in and goes straight the room she's been sharing with Stiles. She packs and is gone in fifteen minutes, smelling of salt tears and unhappiness. Erica nudges Derek and he stands, waving Scott back into his seat. Scott's mutinous stares have lessened over the years but still come out around anything to do with Stiles. Allison puts a hand on Scott's shoulder and shakes her head.

Derek finds Stiles sitting on what he thinks of as their rock and Stiles openly calls the Brooding Rock. He climbs up and sits next to him, pressing their legs together and waiting. After a long moment Stiles runs his hands through his hair and sighs.

“So 'date a werewolf' turns out to be the worst advice you've ever given me,” Stiles says, his voice rough.

Derek waits.

“Apparently I'm a liar,” Stiles says, head lowered and eyes fixed on the ground. “For not telling her about the faeries. I mean. I'm pretty sure I did – it's one of my most badass stories after all – but she says I didn't.”

“Do the Stackhouses have -” Derek gets interrupted before he can finish.

“Faerie trouble, apparently,” Stiles says, letting out a long breath. “Going back centuries. To be fair to me – she never told me about that.”

“They probably don't tell outsiders,” Derek says. “Remember I didn't even know they were real.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He goes quiet for a long moment and Derek is thinking about offering some kind of physical comfort when he starts talking again: “She said she could handle all the stuff I get mixed up in, even though I'm human and breakable, but not that. Unless I took the bite.”

“You've never wanted the bite,” Derek says, anger stirring inside him. He must make a noise because Stiles reaches out and grabs one of his hands before it turns into a fist.

“I told her that,” Stiles says, one corner of his mouth twitching up. “Turns out that was a mistake. She'd been assuming that I would, eventually, if we were going to, you know.”

“I didn't even know you'd talked about getting married,” Derek says and Stiles flinches. Derek laces their fingers together and squeezes Stiles' hand.

“A little bit?” Stiles says, rubbing his free hand over his neck. “I never thought it was that serious, the talking, but I haven't got the senses to pick up on it, apparently.”

“It's common for humans who marry into a pack to take the bite,” Derek says quietly. “We never – Peter's wife was human, she never wanted it and we never made her. If the Stackhouses insist maybe it's better that it ends now.”

“I know that,” Stiles says, leaning into Derek's side. “On, like, multiple levels but, you know, I'd started thinking about us having a future. This sort of feels like it's come out of nowhere.”

“Sucks,” Derek says, lifting his arm and curling it around Stiles. He slides his fingers up into Stiles' hair and rubs at his scalp. Stiles makes a quiet noise of contentment.

“Yeah, big time,” he says after a moment. Derek looks down to see Stiles has his eyes shut, his face burrowing into Derek's chest. Derek turns as much as he can without dislodging Stiles and wraps his arms around him properly, unable to stop himself from rubbing his cheek over Stiles' hair.

“Come on, man,” Stiles says into his chest. “Is that really necessary?”

“She hurt you,” Derek says, ducking his head to drag his cheek against Stiles'. “I don't want to smell her.”

“Oh! how I love it when you go all Alpha male on me,” Stiles says, sarcasm underlying every word. His heartbeat shows the sarcasm up for a lie and Derek can't stop himself from smiling. “Shut up. We don't speak of the lie, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek says, rubbing soothing circles into Stiles' back.

“Can we just stay here?” Stiles asks, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Derek's shirt.

“We're in the middle of your party,” Derek says. “Sash came a long way just to see you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says, his voice low and quiet. “Don't really feel like it though.”

“Pretend you do,” Derek says, hesitating before pressing a brief friendly kiss to Stiles' temple. “I know you're good at it. Anyway your Dad will be here soon.”

“I thought he was at that conference,” Stiles pulls back and blinks at Derek. Derek smiles ruefully.

“Uh, surprise?”

Stiles laughs at him. It's weak and brittle but Derek will take it.

“It doesn't have to go late,” Derek says, hands still moving over Stiles' back. “And Erica and Isaac will have stripped and changed your room by now – so you won't even have to smell her.”

“You know that doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “But the thought counts so, thanks.”

“Ready to go back?” Derek asks. “Scott's already pissed that he didn't get to come after you.”

“That's because Scott missed the day he stopped being my go-to in moments of emotional turmoil,” Stiles huffs out a breath.

“I'm touched?” Derek raises his eyebrows and Stiles laughs again, a little stronger this time.

“He's still the best for getting drunk with, no offence, but you -” Stiles pauses and ducks his head. “You get me. Better than he does sometimes. Or, I guess, you get _all_ of me. Which kinda scares me but is good in these circumstances.”

“Um,” Derek says, looking off at the trees. “Same. I guess.”

Stiles looks up at him and smiles and it's not any kind of smile he's seen from Stiles before. It feeds into the pool of warmth growing in Derek's chest that he can only label 'Stiles'.

“That's enough rom-com style heart-to-heart with a friend for one birthday, I think,” Stiles says, pulling away from Derek entirely. “We should go see if there's any pizza left.”

“Unlikely,” Derek says, standing up and jumping down from the rock. He catches Stiles' arms when Stiles stumbles his landing and rights him.

“I'm trying optimism out,” Stiles says, shrugging. “It might work for me.”

Derek watches Stiles rebuild his masks as they walk back to the house. If you weren't looking, if you didn't know how to pay attention in the right way, you'd barely see the cracks. Stiles laughs with his friends and pretends surprise when his Dad shows up and the mask never slips out of place.

Derek wakes up half way through the night to find Stiles curled up on his bed, in one of Derek's shirts, and he sighs and pulls him closer. Stiles makes a few snuffly noises then octopuses himself around Derek.

Masks, Derek thinks, layers and masks. He wonders if Stiles will ever get to stop wearing them.

He wakes up in the morning to find Stiles staring at him. Stiles laughs when Derek rolls him off the bed, long legs still up on the side. Even his feet are laughing. Which is ridiculous. Derek is ridiculous.

“Just getting my own back for all the times you did that to me in senior year,” Stiles says when climbs back onto the bed to sit crosslegged on the comforter.

“I did it maybe five times,” Derek says, pushing himself up against the headboard.

“Five times too many, my Dad would say,” Stiles' cheeks are still flushed with laughter. He looks better than he did yesterday.

“Good thing your Dad doesn't know about that then,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes.

“Point,” Stiles says, cocking a finger gun at him. “So I have something to tell you.”

“You're not pregnant,” Derek says, widening his eyes and clutching at the comforter. Stiles stares for a moment before laughing loud enough to wake the whole house up. There's a thud of a boot hitting the wall Derek's room shares with Erica and Boyd's. Derek doesn't really care because that's Stiles' honest laughter.

“Oh my God, who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?” Stiles says when his laughter finally subsides.

“I'm getting better,” Derek says, shrugging. The sessions with Anya have been made monthly, in fact, _because_ he's getting better. Stiles' face softens.

“I'm glad,” he says, reaching out and patting Derek's ankle. “That's actually one of the reasons I want to tell you this – I'm thinking of finishing my Master's online, coming home.”

“Is this because of -” Derek waves a hand and Stiles knows what he means. Stiles shakes his head.

“No, I was already thinking about it,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his cupped hands. “I've sort of started a business. Well. Danny's helping. And Jackson's doing the financial stuff.”

“What kind of business?” Derek asks, tilting his head.

“You remember how I joked about charging money for being a supernatural consultant?” Stiles asks. “I'm, uh, charging money for being a supernatural consultant.”

“And that's working?” Derek asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Even better than any of us predicted,” Stiles says, nodding. “Turns out people will pay a lot of money to have someone identify what supernatural weirdness is going down in their town. I do it online – only take money for the legitimate stuff.”

“I thought you wanted to be a teacher,” Derek says. Stiles shrugs.

“I still do, mostly,” Stiles says. “But I like this too. Who knows – maybe I can combine the two and offer online classes in Supernatural Badassery. Ooh! And How To Train Your Alpha.”

“You're sure?” Derek asks, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“Yeah,” Stiles runs both hands through his hair and looks up with a smile. “I think I've been away from home for long enough. I'm going to finish out this semester then go online for the last few units I need.”

Derek doesn't really have the words but he thinks by the small smile on Stiles' face that he doesn't need them anyway. He doesn't have a chance to speak, besides, because that's when the entire pack choose to break his door down, _literally_ , and pile onto Stiles in their excitement. Danny hangs back because he knew and he exchanges a knowing smile with Derek.

Derek's pack is nearly all together again, he's getting better and there's been no trouble for a while. He feels peaceful. It won't last, he knows, but now he can enjoy it for what it is.

–

“This shouldn't even be possible!” Stiles says as Derek ruts up against him, their clothed cocks dragging together in the sweetest slide known to man.

“What?” Derek asks, dragging his mouth away from Stiles' neck.

“Incubuses! Incubi! They're only meant to be able to affect women!” Stiles is using way too many exclamation marks but he can't help it because _this shouldn't be possible_. “Hence _all the victims being women_.”

“It's happening,” Derek says, fingers digging into Stiles' hips to hold him still. Derek grinds against him and Stiles' brain nearly shorts out.

“I can feel that, _holy God_ ,” Stiles grips Derek's hair and pulls him in for a biting kiss. “But it shouldn't be.”

“Objection noted,” Derek says, bending his head to suck a mark into Stiles' neck.

They'd at least made it back to Stiles' apartment before falling against one another, the burning fire of arousal in their veins forcing them to take different routes for fear of breaking the law and rutting against each other in public.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, hips twitching forward without his input. “We've got to – we've got to -”

“Yeah,” Derek says, his stubble scraping perfectly against Stiles' neck. “I know. It's okay.”

“Oh, God, this is awful,” Stiles says as Derek knocks his knees apart to fit between Stiles' legs. “This is the worst.”

“Thanks,” Derek says, just a hint of humour in his voice. Stiles thumps him on the shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles says, pushing forward against the hot line of Derek's cock through his jeans.

“Yeah, I do,” Derek says, hands coming up to cup Stiles' cheeks gently. He brushes his thumbs over where they've flushed red and Stiles leans into the touch. “Okay?”

Stiles lets out a long breath and nods. Derek leans in to kiss him, this one a lot more careful than any they've shared since the incubus got to them. Stiles licks into Derek's mouth, revelling in the wet heat. The kiss rapidly turns desperate again, Derek making shockingly arousing noises into Stiles' mouth. They've done this three times now, starting on a fourth, and Stiles has _never_ heard those noises before. They go straight to his cock.

“Up,” Derek breathes into Stiles' mouth, his hands sliding down Stiles' thighs. Stiles gets the message and lifts one then the other to wrap around Derek's waist. Derek's hands feel huge and hot as he adjusts his grip and then he's pressing Stiles hard against the wall.

“Hey, watch it,” Stiles says, fingers flexing uselessly in the leather of Derek's jacket. “Fragile human bones, remember?”

“I'm not really -” Derek makes a frustrated noise at himself as he loosens his hold. “My _control_ is fragile.”

“Yeah, getting that,” Stiles says, threading a hand into Derek's hair and dragging him in for another kiss.

Derek ruts up against him and the likelihood of Stiles coming in his pants increases tenfold when Derek sucks a little at his tongue before pulling back to press biting kisses along Stiles' jawline. Derek's breath is harsh and needy, like he can't quite draw enough air into his lungs, and Stiles' is no better. He sucks in a breath and lets his head fall back when Derek finally manages to fit them together in a way that makes their cocks rub up against each other. The heat of it, the friction of their want, makes Stiles dizzy and he really, really, _really_ hates that incubi turned out to be real.

“Derek, Derek – I -” Stiles doesn't know why he's warning Derek that he's close to coming. Derek already knows, he's sure, because Stiles is trembling in his arms and gripping his hair so tight that it has to hurt.

“Yeah,” Derek's breath hitches and he leans in to catch Stiles' mouth in a bruising kiss, his thrusts going sporadic and uncoordinated as he comes. The hot flush of it between them makes Stiles follow, his world whiting out at the edges as he moans against Derek's mouth.

They hit the floor in a sprawl, Derek's body breaking the fall for Stiles, and pant against each other. Stiles is awkwardly kneeling over Derek and Derek's hands are behind him, bracing himself against the floor. Stiles' boxers are sticky and awful but he's no less hard than he was when Derek pushed him back against the wall after slamming the door shut behind them. Derek's eyes are wide and dark and Stiles doesn't bother with shame as he reaches down between them to find that Derek's still hard too.

“Great,” he says, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Magic Viagra.”

He only notices he still has a hand on Derek's cock when Derek makes a soft noise and pushes up into his touch. Derek's still looking at him wide-eyed, his nostrils flaring as he pulls deep breaths into his lungs. Stiles raises his other hand and presses two fingers against Derek's lips, watching absently as Derek opens his mouth to draw them in.

“This is really bad,” Stiles says, pulling the spit slick fingers back when he realises what he's doing.

“You think?” Derek says, pushing himself up so he's sitting. Now Stiles is kneeling over Derek's lap and he thinks he can smell some of what Derek can – their separate arousal mixing together and making his cock twitch meaningfully in his jeans.

“I need to talk to Danny,” Stiles says, pushing Derek's jacket off his shoulders. He fits his hands over the rise of muscles that ascend to Derek's neck and swallows slightly.

“What's he going to know that you don't?” Derek asks as he tugs at the hem of Stiles' tee. Stiles lifts his arms and let's Derek pull it over his head. He shivers when the cool air of the apartment hits his sex flushed skin.

“Nothing yet,” Stiles says, watching as Derek tugs his own tee over his head. “But my head isn't clear enough to do the research we need.”

“Yeah?” Derek lifts an eyebrow and lowers his head to lick a stripe over one of Stiles' nipples. Stiles can't be held responsible for the noise he makes.

“What do you think?” Stiles says, sliding his hands over Derek's chest. They've never really had this – time to touch each other – and Stiles thinks he could maybe get addicted to the feel of Derek's skin under his. Maybe that's just the incubus mojo speaking though.

“You seem pretty distracted,” Derek agrees, making his way up to Stiles' neck again. Stiles is going to be red raw for days – it's a really good thing that Lydia is far, far away, she'd make fun of him for days.

Stiles doesn't answer Derek, choosing instead to unbuckle Derek's belt and unzip his ridiculously tight jeans. Derek's hips jerk upwards when Stiles traces his hand over Derek's cock through the fabric of his briefs. Derek makes a strangled sort of noise and bats Stiles' hand away, pulling Stiles' jeans open and tugging his cock out of his boxers. Derek licks the palm of his hand quickly before wrapping his fingers around Stiles' cock.

“Holy shit,” Stiles says, letting his head fall against Derek's shoulder. Derek's hand is skilled, each stroke only making the heat coursing through Stiles burn brighter, and Stiles bucks into the tight grip.

Derek turns his head to mark Stiles' neck again – Stiles is going to have to wear a hipster scarf for weeks, even though the weather isn't right for scarves at all. Fucking incubi. He tries to focus on what led them to this point in an effort to stop himself from spilling instantly over Derek's hand.

It started with an e-mail to the Full Moon Consultancy page – Stiles had been surprised to see that the sender was in Chico, he'd never lived in such a quiet place. Suspicious deaths, it had said, all women and all seemingly drained of life in a way that shouldn't be physically possible. Derek had shown up a week into Stiles' investigations because _apparently_ Stiles had been ignoring everyone in favour of them. He didn't mind, actually, because he was starting to get a feeling and that feeling told him he'd want Derek around for back-up on this one.

This isn't quite the back-up he'd been thinking of. Derek brushes the back of his fingers up Stiles' happy trail then slides the hand up so he can flick a thumb curiously over a nipple. Stiles tries to breathe out quietly but it emerges as a low moan and Derek chuckles in his ear. Stiles hits Derek on the arm again as he pulls back to glare at him. Derek grins and twists his wrist and with a surprised 'oh' Stiles is coming again, weak spatters of come hitting Derek's abdomen.

“That's going to get old fast,” Stiles says, looking down at his still hard cock. “Not to mention the part where it's going to start chafing. Ugh.”

He tucks himself away again, wrinkling his nose at the stickiness, and pushes Derek down against the floor. He slides off Derek's lap and pulls Derek's jeans and briefs off with a series of sharp tugs. Stiles parts Derek's legs with his hands and settles between them, bending himself comfortably over Derek's cock. He breathes out against it, watches it twitch in the grip of one lazy hand, before sealing his mouth over the head. Derek's hips jerk under him but Stiles is ready, pulling back before Derek's cock fucks into his mouth. He looks up at Derek.

“Okay?” Stiles asks, smoothing his free hand down one of Derek's thighs. Derek lets out a shaky breath and nods.

Stiles lowers his head again and takes his time; feels the weight of Derek on his tongue, finds the places that make Derek curse, moan and whine. He hears Derek's hands slam against the floor when he tongues just under the head and repeats until Derek can't resist any longer and twists his fingers into Stiles' hair. Stiles lets out a little moan before he can stop himself and Derek makes a cut off noise. Stiles is dimly aware of the way his cock is aching in his boxers but he ignores it in favour of drawing another release out of Derek.

“Your _mouth_ ,” Derek grits out and Stiles would smile if he could. He makes do with pulling off to mouth at Derek's balls, jerking him off with easy strokes. Stiles presses a finger of his free hand behind Derek's balls and slides down to circle around his hole and Derek comes with a startled shout, a little arc of come landing on Stiles cheek.

“Heh,” Stiles says and Derek sits up again, tugging Stiles up to lick the come away. Stiles goes hot all over and Derek gives him the filthiest grin he has ever seen. “Hey. My kinks are my kinks, okay?”

“I didn't say anything,” Derek says, widening his eyes innocently.

“You didn't have to,” Stiles says, waving a hand. “I could see it in your eyes.”

“Head clear enough to call Danny?” Derek asks, absently swiping Stiles' come from his abdomen and sucking it off his finger.

Stiles is pretty sure he just nearly came in his boxers again.

“I -” his breath stops up his throat when Derek stands gracefully, leaving his cock level with Stiles' face. No. Come _on_ Stiles. Keep it together. “Yeah – I – I'll do that. Now.”

“Okay,” Derek says, walking over and throwing himself on the couch. Stiles watches him longer than he should.

“Right,” he says to himself, rocking into a crouch before standing slowly. His legs are still trembling a little but he can walk so he crosses over to fall onto the couch at the opposite end to Derek. He digs his phone out of his pocket and speed-dials five.

“ _Hey, Stiles, what's up?_ ”

“I need you to dig into incubi for me,” Stiles says, running a weary hand over his face. It serves a double purposes because it blocks Derek, supine and currently _literally_ painfully attractive to Stiles' cock, from his vision.

“ _That's what you've got down there?_ ”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “We've, uh, run into some trouble with it.”

“ _Cloud says you've got a few options for taking it down -_ ”

“Tried them all,” Stiles says, because they had right before the incubus got up close and personal with them. “Didn't work.”

“ _There's a note about that._ ”

“Yeah, I know, I made it,” Stiles sighs. “Can you go deeper on it? I never really thought they'd be real so I didn't go as deep as I could – stop laughing Derek, that's not innuendo.”

Stiles lifts his hand to see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. His eyes are then automatically drawn to Derek's cock and then his sense memory is off and running. _Fuck_.

“ _It got you, didn't it?_ ”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, looking away as Derek starts lazily stroking his cock. “It did. I need to know how to fix it before we go after it – I can't think straight.”

“ _Um._ ”

“I don't like 'um',” Stiles says, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock when the sounds of Derek jerking off become invasive. “'Um' is bad – we hate 'um' at FMC. Danny -”

“ _The only way to stop, uh, that is to kill it._ ”

“Awesome,” Stiles grinds out. “That is _exactly_ what I wanted to hear.”

“ _Sorry, Stiles. Listen – I'll look deeper and see if there's a special way to kill it or if Derek can just rip its head off._ ”

“Yeah, thanks,” Stiles says, sighing again. “Anything will help right now.”

“ _How about some advice. Lube, Stiles, lots and lots of lube. Or that chafing is going to suck._ ”

“I hate you,” Stiles says, hearing Danny's laughter clear over the phone. Derek's breath hitches and Stiles looks back at him in time see him come again, his body jerking on the couch. “I hate _everything_.”

“ _I'll call you back._ ”

Danny ends the call and Stiles drops his phone next to him. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars and counts to ten. Then counts to ten again. Derek shifts and pulls his hands away, rubbing his thumb over the place Stiles' pulse is hammering in his wrists.

“Don't hurt yourself,” Derek says, echoing something Stiles remembers saying last time. Stiles nods weakly.

Derek releases his wrists and pulls Stiles' jeans and boxers off before going down on him. It doesn't take much to make Stiles come again, his blood fizzing, and then Derek is resting his head on Stiles' stomach. It's unbearably tender in a way these situations haven't been before and Stiles' heart skips a beat for a reason he'd prefer not to examine.

“I'm going to take a shower because I'm gross,” Stiles says, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Danny's probably going to take a while to find something useful.”

“Sounds good,” Derek says, moving so Stiles can get up. That Derek follows him isn't surprising, that Derek hesitates at the bathroom door is.

“Can I -” he starts, waving at the shower. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, finding a smile for him. “Two birds with one stone, probably.”

It's weirdly intimate in the shower – probably because it's realistically too small for both of them – but they do manage to get clean before Derek ends up fingering Stiles through to orgasm number four. Derek slides slickly between Stiles' thighs, mouthing at the back of his neck, and shudders through another of his own. They towel off quietly, tiredness starting to seep into their bones, and Stiles vaguely wonders if this fuck-or-die situation is turning into fuck-in-all-the-ways-or-die.

Stiles grabs sweatpants, for easy access, from his bedroom for them both and they collapse on the couch again, Derek drawing circles on Stiles' chest with his hand. They're both still hard and aching, both still burning with the need to come again and again and again, but their bodies aren't co-operating. Stiles had grabbed the lube just in case, though.

“Got a plan?” Derek asks, his mouth right by Stiles' ear.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, turning into Derek's side more. “We know where he lives and where he's getting his victims from – if Danny comes through for us we can find him easily enough. The problem is going to be keeping our hands off each other for long enough to kill him.”

“So – the same plan as before,” Derek says, pausing to mouth over Stiles' ear. “But with more sexual frustration.”

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “I mean – unless Danny turns up an easier way that's all I've got.”

“That plan sucks,” Derek observes, his hand drifting down toward the waist of Stiles' sweatpants. Stiles elbows him.

“It's the only plan there is,” Stiles says, absently rocking his hips under Derek's touch. “Unless you've got a better idea?”

“Stay here and let the others deal with it,” Derek says quietly, his breath warm on Stiles' neck.

“Please,” Stiles says, moving so he can look Derek in the eye. “Like you'd endanger anyone else.”

Derek drags him into a slow kiss in response and Stiles falls into him, giving into the fire again. Derek manoeuvres Stiles into his lap, palms hot and strong on his ass, and Stiles grinds down against him as soon as he's settled. Derek bites back a moan and slides his hands into Stiles' sweatpants, inching them down.

“It feels a lot like this is never going to end,” Stiles murmurs, wriggling in an effort to line their cocks up through their pants.

“Better call the college and tell them you're never going to finish,” Derek says, bringing his hands around to the front of Stiles pants and pushing them down to free Stiles' cock.

“Ugh, what a waste of money,” Stiles says, reaching blindly toward the coffee table behind him for the lube. Derek holds his hips steady and balances him. “How am I going to pay off that student debt if I can never leave my apartment?”

“Danny could probably set up a webcam,” Derek says as Stiles shifts his weight onto his knees so that Derek can work his own pants down. Stiles laughs, supporting himself with a hand on Derek's shoulder.

“If you'd been this funny from the start I would've spent a lot less time suggesting we let you die-slash-kill you,” Stiles says as he settles in Derek's lap again. He barely holds back an embarrassing mewl when their cocks brush together.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek breathes out. Stiles looks at him for a moment, lets himself look, at the red flush down his chest and the lust blown eyes and the faint sheen of sweat. His mouth goes dry.

Stiles squeezes lube onto his hand and offers it to Derek wordlessly. He soothes a hand over his cock, cold lube normally feels horrible but at this moment it's an absolute relief. He slicks up and waits for Derek to finish slicking his own cock before moving closer and sliding them together. Derek's dry hand squeezes Stiles' hip hard enough to leave bruises and it's Stiles' turn to let a shaky breath.

They find a slow rhythm, trading kisses when it all gets to be too much, Derek lifting up into Stiles' downwards thrusts. Stiles knows that this is something he's actually good at because it's something he loves. Don't get him wrong, the full-blown fucking is great, but there's something about the slick _slide_ of his cock against someone else's that really does it for him. He sucks a few marks of his own into Derek's neck and wonders how long they'll last. Derek seems to like it, baring his throat for more, and Stiles bites down on several observations he really doesn't need to make right now.

“God, you're hot,” Stiles mumbles into Derek's skin. He can't stop himself and Derek shudders under him.

“You're amazing,” Derek says, his voice a hushed whisper. It makes Stiles shiver right down to the base of his spine.

It's getting a bit weird and emotional so Stiles snakes a hand between them to wrap his fingers around both of their cocks together, making a tight space for them to fuck into. Derek's head falls back and his eyes close, his hips snapping up to meet Stiles' thrusts. He knows when Derek just wants to come because Derek wraps a hand around Stiles', twisting their fingers together and stroking. Stiles feels this one start in his balls and radiate steadily outwards, until his toes and fingers and everything in between are tingling. He jerks, fucking up into their combined grip, and comes.

Derek catches Stiles' long moan with his mouth and shudders and stills under Stiles, his whole body seeming to vibrate as he comes a bare second after Stiles. They breathe weakly against each other, foreheads pressed hard together, and Stiles feels aftershocks like waves through him. Derek kisses him once more, chastely, before relaxing his grip and letting Stiles slide off him sideways. Stiles ends up on his back on the couch, legs draped over Derek's lap, and Derek has to pull his pants back up for him.

He's sticky. Again.

Stiles nearly kicks Derek in the face when his phone rings, scrambling onto his stomach to reach for it.

“Danny,” he says. “Please tell me you have something for me.”

“ _Getting desperate?_ ”

“You're not funny,” Stiles says as Derek runs a hand over his calf.

“ _I'm a little funny. You guys have this system for a reason._ ”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, Derek's hand trailing up toward the back of his knee. He twitches. “Come on. What have you got?”

“ _I couldn't find anything about needing something special to kill it. Most accounts say all the usual ways will do. People have set them on fire, decapitated them, stabbed them, ripped their throats open – all confirmed kills._ ”

“So Derek _can_ just rip its head off,” Stiles says, pulling his legs away from Derek's touch.

“ _That'll do it._ ”

“Thanks, Danny,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair.

“ _Any time. Stiles – be careful, yeah?_ ”

“I'm always – okay, no, I can't lie like that to you,” Stiles huffs out a laugh. “I'll do my best. Besides – I've got the Big Bad Wolf to protect me.”

Derek snorts as Stiles ends the call and drops his phone on the coffee table. Stiles swings his legs off the couch and sits with his head in his hands, thinking. Derek doesn't make another move toward him, recognising all the 'let me think' vibes Stiles is giving off. That's a scary thought. Derek knowing him that well. It shouldn't be scary though, they've known each other for longer than Derek was away from Beacon Hills. Derek's probably Stiles' second best friend by now – more than friends, something Stiles can't really explain and doesn't really want to because it centres him.

“We know that incubi feed on sexual energy,” Stiles says, speaking into the gap between his hands. “He obviously doesn't need to be near us to fuck us up – but before this he was draining women in person. What does that say to you?”

“He's not feeding on us,” Derek says. Stiles nods.

“He feeds by fucking, usually, so this – us – it's a, what, defence mechanism?” Stiles asks himself. “Or is it something he doesn't normally do? Did you, you know, notice anything off about him when we left?”

“His scent changed,” Derek says and Stiles feels him shift to sit beside him. “And he stumbled. Just as you ran. He stumbled.”

“He weakened himself taking us out of the picture,” Stiles says, twisting his fingertips into his hair. “Figured we'd be too busy freaking out to notice what it did to him. He's counting on us fucking ourselves to death while he recovers. We can kill him – he can't do anything else to us.”

“You're speculating,” Derek says and Stiles can hear the frown.

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles says, lifting his head and blinking at Derek. “But I can feel it – I'm right.”

“Spark stuff?” Derek says, raising his eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Stiles shrugs. “Listen – we go back to his lair, he's going to be distracted and weak, we banter a bit, you rip his head off and my dick gets a rest.”

“Banter?” Derek asks, one side of his mouth twitching up.

“He's British – banter is what British bad guys do,” Stiles shrugs again.

“It's a terrible plan,” Derek says, falling back against the couch.

“It is _literally_ the only plan we have,” Stiles says.

“I know,” Derek says. “Doesn't mean it's not terrible.”

Stiles throws one of the couch cushions at him and stands, holding out a hand to pull Derek up. The contact makes his blood sing again and he finds himself kissing Derek, delving into the welcome warmth of his mouth. Derek's hands come up to grip his biceps, forcibly separating them.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, ducking his head. Derek rubs a hand over Stiles' hair.

“Don't be,” he says, stepping away. “Let's get dressed.”

They dress in separate rooms to avoid further distraction and rendezvous at the door five minutes later. Stiles catches Derek tucking the lube into a pocket of his leather jacket at raises an eyebrow at him. Derek gives him a shrug of 'you never know' and Stiles snorts out a laugh.

They take the Camaro because the Jeep is in the shop again (Stiles is close to admitting that she's too old for this shit and retiring her but he feels guilty whenever he thinks about it). Derek is silent and Stiles fidgets, barely resisting the urge to jerk off. The car has always kind of done it for him and realistically he knows that's because it's tied up in a lot of adrenaline fuelled memories but that doesn't change his response. He thinks Derek is probably used to Stiles sitting in the passenger seat with hard on – considering he's never mentioned it Stiles figures that falls under the same umbrella as 'growing up in a house of werewolves'.

The incubus has been living in a shitty apartment on the edge of town, luring women back with promises he can't keep and doesn't need to. It doesn't take long to get there and Stiles has a moment where his stomach swoops nervously when he climbs out of the car. It's such a familiar feeling now that he barely notices, touching his chest briefly to focus his breathing.

If the incubus is here it probably already knows they're coming so they don't bother with stealth. Derek actually breaks the door down, making Stiles roll his eyes, and the incubus stands smoothly as they come in. He does look greyer than he had when Stiles saw him last and Stiles notices a slight tremor in his hands before he tucks them in his pockets.

“Gentlemen,” he says, smiling. “I didn't expect you again so soon.”

“Well,” Stiles shrugs, Derek standing at his back. “Though we'd take another run at killing you.”

“You're welcome to try,” the incubus says, inclining his head. “But I think it could be difficult.”

“Never said I thought it'd be easy,” Stiles says as he feels Derek's hands come to rest on his waist.

“It really takes it out of me, you may have noticed,” the incubus steps around his couch and leans against the back of it. “Getting you two so hot and bothered under the collar. I despise men and their sexual urges – you're all so easy to manipulate. Hardly worth my time.”

Derek makes a soft noise and jerks Stiles back against him, grinding his cock against Stiles' ass. Stiles arches slightly, making fists with his hands to stop himself from reaching back.

“I could sense it, you know,” the incubus continues, waving a hand at them both. Derek's mouth touches to the base of Stiles' neck. “You two trying to fuck yourselves out. Lovely variety of positions and you didn't even get to the actual fucking. How about we remedy that?”

Stiles shudders as the fire burns hotter through him. Derek's mouth comes up to his ear, tongue pressing just behind. Stiles feels him mouth 'okay?' into his skin and he nods, once. Derek swings him around and presses him against the wall, biting his way down Stiles' neck. Stiles can see the incubus watching with hungry eyes, his skin ashen white – proving Stiles' theory. Derek hitches one of Stiles' legs up, aligning their cocks and grinding against him. Stiles lets out a moan and digs a hand into Derek's hair to pull him up. They kiss, once, desperately and dangerously.

Each press of Derek's hands to Stiles' body is asking 'now?' and each of Stiles' returning touches says 'not yet'. He watches the incubus from the corner of his eye, watches the aborted moves it makes towards them.

“Make it good,” Stiles whispers into Derek's cheek and Derek nods against him, reaching between them to pull Stiles' jeans open.

“Delightful,” the incubus murmurs when Stiles moans into Derek's mouth, Derek's fingers circling his cock and stroking.

“Lube,” Derek says, fingers sliding back and under. Stiles pulls the lube out of Derek's pocket and passes it to him.

Derek pushes Stiles' jeans down further, until they drop to his knees, and slicks his fingers. Neither of them bothered to wear underwear for this part, figuring they'd end up here, and Stiles spreads himself as best as he can. Derek teases before sliding a finger in on one long movement. He raises an eyebrow at the ease of it and Stiles smirks, waggling his eyebrows. Derek huffs out a laugh.

Stiles makes it good too; arching his back away from the wall, making louder noises than usual, grabbing at Derek's ass and pulling him closer. It's working, the incubus is coming closer, and then Derek slides a second finger in and Stiles loses focus for a moment, gasping at the stretch. Derek slides a hand up under Stiles' shirt, resting over his heartbeat. 'Now' it asks and Stiles looks up to see the incubus close, craning his head to see the Derek's hand is moving between them.

“Yes,” Stiles answers.

Derek withdraws with a growl and his hand flashes out behind him, tearing into the flesh of the incubus' chest. It looks down, startled, as Derek throws it to the ground – its handsome features twist into something hellish, black eyes widening. Stiles hastily pulls his jeans up, making a face at the lube sliding down the back of his thigh.

“Funny thing,” the incubus says as Derek raises a clawed hand to rip its throat out. “Did you know that I can only make two people fuck each other if they already want to? You can put that in your little Bestiary if you like.”

Derek snarls and there's a disgusting wet tearing noise as he drags his hand across the incubus' throat. The creature jerks and thrashes for a moment then dies on a sigh. The fire is gone just as quickly and Stiles slumps against the wall as all of the tiredness hits him at once. Derek wipes his hands on the incubus' jacket then joins Stiles leaning against the wall.

“Do you think it was telling the truth?” Stiles asks, staring down at the ruined throat with morbid fascination.

“Probably not,” Derek says with a shrug. “Things like that will say anything when they're about to die.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He rubs a hand over his forehead. “I mean. Not that I don't like fucking you when this sort of shit goes down, that would make it worse, but it's not like I think about it when we're not in it.”

“Same,” Derek says, bumping his shoulder against Stiles'. Stiles looks up and finds a weary smile for him.

“Ugh,” he says after a moment. “I am gross again. Shower?”

“Yeah,” Derek smiles wearily back and pushes away from the wall.

“And then all the sleep,” Stiles says, joining him. “ _All of it_. I haven't been this fucked out since -”

He stops before he says Kerri's name because it still hurts to think about her. Derek just bumps his shoulder again and brushes their hands together.

“Yeah,” Derek says, his voice slightly off the edge of normal and Stiles thinks about Kate and the things Derek's told him about her and he shudders.

“Okay?” Stiles asks when they get back to the Camaro. Derek leans his arms on the roof of the car and looks at him for a long moment.

“Yeah,” he says, something like his real smile ghosting over his mouth. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This part's dubious consent comes in the form of Derek and Stiles being forced to have sex with each other by an incubus. Neither of them are in completely in control of their bodies but, as usual, they give as much verbal consent as they can.
> 
> Next up: Potions.


End file.
